


You and Me and He Makes Three

by assassin_trifecta



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cullen has a bad habit of walking in on people, F/M, Female Cousland is the queen, Multi, Ser Gilmore didn't die, Ser Gilmore is also the Inquisitor, and also their lover, and the former Guard Captain of their majesties of Ferelden, anyway, give me mod name or give me death, god this is really just an RP triplet that I ran with here, his fucking name is apparently RODERICK but I DO NOT adhere to that at all, it's fucking ROLAND thank you Bioware, just bear with me here, listen you can't make this this up, please just give it a shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: Cullen finds out something that he desperately didn't need to know about his Queen and his Inquisitor.
Relationships: Female Cousland/Alistair/Roland Gilmore, Female Cousland/Roderick Gilmore, Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	You and Me and He Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actuallylailah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallylailah/gifts).



> God okay guys just bear with me because this is like the Longest Shot in pairings between me and an RP partner because why the hell not. King Alistair and Queen Ileanna have Guard Captain Gilmore as their lover but he happens to be the Inquisitor now and it's just - you gotta believe me here. It's worth it.

Lily learned early in life that there was a time and a place for everything. For dancing, for training. For feeding her hound, for talking back to her mother and weeping to her father later over the injustice of a dressing down. Everything in life has a specific purpose, and they happened at specific times for specific reasons. That was a lesson important to the young lady of Highever castle. It was especially important as a Grey Warden. It was _imperative_ for a queen.

It was not, however, of any great importance to two very tired, very filthy lovers.

\---

_Their trek had not been a happy one. Lily remembered distinctly the ice that passed through her veins, the faint call of a song between her ears as they passed within the mile of the scar that used to be Ostagar. The land had been riddled with ghouls and swamp and bodies; demons, and nightmares left over from Blight and Breach alike. They did not have a happy time saving Inquisition soldiers. It was the first time that Lily had ever regret coming out of the Deep Roads to find the Inquisition._

_Still, they had to return to Skyhold eventually. With wounded soldiers in tow, they traveled down a road that was so familiar in its horror that nightmares ten years old crawled to the forefront of her mind to haunt her once again. Lily found herself relieved passing through the Hinterlands and back into the mountains that led to Skyhold. She couldn’t remember a moment where she hadn’t gripped tight to Rory’s hand. When he suggested a bath, she could not have been more relieved. The idea of a soak almost put her mind at rest enough to not be bothered by the injustice of the tiny tub in her otherwise perfect quarters._

_“Lily?” Roland asked when she finally let go of his hand so that they could part ways. Ginger brows drew together in confusion, his hand caught hers once more. “I thought we were going to take a bath.”_

_Realization passed through her mind and over her face, followed quickly by a blush redder than his hair that crept up her cheeks. A bath. We. Together?_

_“I- oh.” Was all the queen could say, glancing around her to see if anyone had heard. Their secret was poorly kept, but it was important to maintain pretenses where they were involved. There had been whispers since their first years in Denerim, but she was sure that Leliana was the only one in Skyhold that really knew what was going on between the royal majesties and their guard captain. Josephine had her suspicions but tactfully said nothing. Cassandra narrowed her eyes here and there but nothing else. Cullen stared on, blissfully unaware that his king and queen were bedding his Inquisitor._

_Ileanna took a deep breath, letting the anticipation seep into her, replacing the stress of the past weeks. “Go ahead,” she whispered to him, uncharacteristically shy in the face of blatant affection. “I’ll catch up.”_

\---

Yes – there was a time and a place for everything.

But sometimes, one just has to sink into the comfort of a long, hot, bath with their lover.

Ileanna and Roland shed their armor and their clothing in slow, methodical movements, taking care to not dent metal and to keep brigandine from bending out of shape. Their under clothes they discard carelessly, lingering touches over bare – but sweat slicked – skin. This touch was routine but not casual, as it is rare that they are able to steal moments together without the interruption of Rory’s advisors. Even in the Deep Roads, away from her husband and their lover, she rarely missed the part of their relationship that had them dodging between shrouded corridors and hidden alcoves. It seemed that even in Skyhold, Ileanna Cousland-Theirin cannot find a moment of peace with Ser Gillmore.

It felt very much like they were in Highever Castle all over again.

“I smell terrible.” Lily lets out a quiet laugh, the first sound out of either of them since she had joined him in his chambers twenty minutes after they parted. She’d made a show of herself in the stable, putting up her own horse and speaking amiably with Warden Blackwall until it no longer seemed as if she was following the Inquisitor to his chambers.

“Of course,” Roland agrees, tugging her out of her thoughts as he tugs her by the wrists to draw her body against his. Sharing heat, and sweat, and the discomforting grime of travel – he holds her against him despite it all, an indulgent smile on his face. He lowers his lips to hers in a kiss, able to only because of the equally indulgent slouch of her shoulders. “I do too,” he continues, grinning against her lips. “That’s why I suggested a bath.”

She allows him tug her to the wash room connected to the Inquisitor’s quarters. The stone is wet and humid with the steam coming from a large, runed tub set into the wall. The warm scents of cinnamon and rose waft against her. Her favorite oils, reminders of her men that she carried on handkerchiefs while she was deep below the earth. A bucket sits next to a cauldron that Rory gently guides her to.

“We don’t want to soil the bath too quickly.” Roland states plainly, dipping the bucket into the water before he turns back to her with a wicked grin. “Brace yourself, Lily.”

She does. The water from the bucket is warm but still a shock when it hits her over the head, washing the grime from their battles and the road away, down the drain in the center of the room. It leaves her gasping, but with a burning clean feeling that brings relief with it. Lily takes the bucket from Rory and repeats the action against him, laughing happily when they both stand gasping from the hot water in the center of the room.

Roland takes her hand gently, not lacing their fingers together but leading her like a queen towards the steps into the bath.

“I’m fair certain it was carved from the wall like this,” he remarks, guiding her into the bath first. She sinks into it with a sigh of relief, letting the warmth of the water and the scented oils fill and surround her. Rory can’t help his warm laugh at the sight of her finally relaxed after weeks of her wallowing in nightmares. “Normally I just wash from the basin, I’m glad _someone_ finally gets to use this thing.”

He joins her a moment later, sliding behind his queen to wrap his arms around her waist, holding her against the comforting brace of his chest. He is solace and companionship where she has felt none; warmth and joy that were drained from her long ago in the Deep Roads.

She feels all of him beneath her, the solid wall of his chest, the muscle of his thighs holding her in, the weight of his manhood pressing against her. A low hum bubbles deep from her throat, and Ileanna presses back against him, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder, her lips grazing along his jaw. She feels the goosebumps rise on his arms, and his echoing rumble of content.

“Well, Inquisitor Gilmore,” Ileanna whispers against his cheek. “I think this is the best idea you’ve had since the Blight.”

\---

“Has anyone seen Rory?” Commander Cullen of the Inquisition glances around the war table as he slaps down a sheaf of papers that Josephine had requested of him. “He wasn’t in the stables, but Warden Blackwall said that he had seen him return with the Queen and our soldiers a short while ago. I’ve an account of the Queen at the tavern and the soldiers in the sick ward, but no Inquisitor abound.”

Leliana glances up at him from where she, too, is stacking a selection of notes on the desk that Josephine occupies in the war room, when she was not occupying the desk in her office. Papers that can wait until their next meeting but should always go to Josie first. She raises a strawberry eyebrow at the commander, but shakes her head.

“He and Lily returned half an hour ago, but I have not seen them since.” The remark is accompanied by a shrug, which Cullen thinks as strange. Normally she keeps tighter tabs on the both of them. As far as he knew, the Inquisitor and the Queen both have a full spy detail following them at all times.

“Please, Leliana, I know she’s not _your_ Queen, but she is _a_ Queen,” he huffs at her. “Show some respect for the woman, would you?”

“She also happens to be a dear, old friend,” the spymaster counters with a short bark of a laugh. “And I know full well that she does not appreciate dear old friends who see her royally first.” She shrugs again, turning back to her papers. “Why not check the Undercroft? Last I heard, Dagna was just finishing something for the Inquisitor.”

“Hmph,” Cullen grumbles, glancing sideways at Leliana before he turns back out of the war room. “Very well, then.”

Cullen bids Josephine a good morning as he passes through of her office and lets her know the soldiers’ paperwork is on the desk in the war room as he goes. He doesn’t bother to ask if she’s seen Ser Gilmore at all – with a full retinue of Orlesian nobles inbound to Skyhold she’s barely had time out of her office writing letters and supply inquiries in the past two days. In the great hall he catches Varric’s eye as the dwarf settles down at his desk. After so long traveling with the Inquisitor and the Queen, Cullen isn’t inclined to disturb him, but he points to the Undercroft with a raised brow. Varric’s nod is all he needs in confirmation before he continues down.

But Dagna has only runes and excitement for him when he meets her there, no Inquisitor in sight. He gently eases himself out of the conversation, towards the other side of the croft where Harrit is engaging with one of Bull’s Chargers about a particularly dented piece of armor.

“Master Harrit-“

“I don’t know, Commander. Haven’t seen the Inquisitor since before he left.” The armor master bows his head to Cullen as he speaks, in brief apology for interrupting him. Cullen isn’t offended – Harrit was a straightforward man. “Though if I’d heard right and the Queen is in the tavern you might check there. They’re inseparable as they always were.”

“Thank you, Harrit-“

“The tavern?” Bull’s Charger – Rocky, Cullen thinks, though that’s a rough name for a Dwarf – snorts a laugh. “The good Queen’s no in the tavern. Wouldn’t be here if she was – the woman’s singing voice is Blessed by the Maker Himself. Try the gardens – her majesty is fond of the flowers.”

Cullen frowns, but bids them both his thanks. One of Leliana’s spies had made a mistake it seemed, a rare occurrence. He’ll tell her about it once he finds the Inquisitor, he thinks. She’ll want to handle it herself.

At the gardens, the witch Morrigan points him towards the library. The library is empty of all but Madame de Fer, who cared neither where the Queen or the Inquisitor were, but did care a great deal about the whereabouts of a book of lore that was well above Cullen’s pay grade. On his way out he pulls aside one of Leliana’s spies again to check, and she bid he look for them both in the tavern.

When he does check the Rest – just to be sure – he finds a number of soldiers, merchants, and workers. And the Iron Bull, who laughed at the idea that the Queen was back and bid Cullen to ask her to join them when next she got the chance, the Inquisitor in tow.

Frustrated, Cullen finally makes his way to the Inquisitor’s tower and the multitude of steps therein.

He knocks once at Roland’s door, and when he hears no answer otherwise, tries the handle just to be sure. Unlocked, which usually meant the Inquisitor is in Skyhold but not abed. Still, he checks anyway, pushing the door open door to the sound of... giggles.

\---

Ileanna’s breath catches in her throat – which is precisely the place where she feels Ser Gilmore end and her begin, so stuffed with him she is. They haven’t been this intimate in a long time, the weeks of travel and mire holding them back from each other. There’s nothing like camp life to hold one back from wild and wanton sex. But together in the bath, alone for once, they have the privacy to join together for as long as they want.

The runed tub had been emptied once already, and they were soaking in hot water anew. Rory had just finished replenishing the oils – still buried inside of her, drawing the giggles from her throat as he reaches theatrically for the little apothecary bottles and the salts to drop the oils in. It has him pressing in her at all new, interesting angles that leave them both gasping in delight.

They settle with Roland’s hands on her hips, easing her into a grind that doesn’t disturb the water around them too badly but does leave her gasping for more. He holds her pressed close to him, grinding against the way that he moves her rough against his hips. The brush of ginger fuzz against her most intimate places under the water adds a texture to their joining that keeps her shivering with every movement. Ileanna’s lips part in a sweet, soft moan, and-

“Oh dear Maker-“

Lily’s hips halt, the blood runs cold as ice in her veins, and she can feel her fingers grip into Rory’s arms, nails digging in deep enough to leave moon shaped dents in his skin. Years of being careful, darting around the crowds of the palace in Denerim, of being subtle and quiet, all down the drain in a heartbeat. She didn’t even have time to turn around – Rory, ever the hero, clutched her against his body, twisting so that he put his broad body between Lily’s and the door.

She could still see Cullen over his shoulder, floundering between trying not to look at them, and looking at them with all the accusation in the world.

“Treach- treas-“ he stammers. “Trol-“

There were a lot of T words that he was trying to get out all at once, and one big fat one that started with an A that Ileanna was sure would be thrown her way once he got control of his mouth. She isn’t entirely sure that adultery was treason against the crown, at the very least, but it certainly was treacherous, as he was saying. If there was any adultery involved – not like he would listen to them in regards to that, anyway. She was no _trollop_.

The queen feels her cheeks heat up – not out of shame, and certainly with some small hint of embarrassment, but mostly with feral rage. At Cullen, yes, for coming in there in there unannounced, but predominantly with herself for forgetting to _lock the fucking door in the first place._

“Cullen!”

Lily rarely hears Rory shout off of the battlefield, and being so close to him now, the sound of it startles her. It apparently startles Cullen too, because the flapping of his lips stops immediately, his eyes narrowing instead at both of them with such clarity that she knew whatever he said next is going to sting.

“I do not want to be the one to tell King Alistair about this treachery from the two of you, but I will do my duty as a friend, a Fereldan, and a child of the Maker.”

Ouch. Yes, that stings, quite a bit. Cullen of course doesn’t know what he’s _talking_ about – King Alistair certainly wouldn’t be surprised to find that his two lovers were taking time to reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies after so long, but he might be a touch jealous that they hadn’t _waited for him_ about it.

Neither Roland or Ileanna have time to respond, however.

Immediately after Cullen, Leliana comes sprinting into the washroom, her hood thrown back with her haste, her breath coming in ragged gasps, hands on her knees to catch her breath. Ileanna has no doubt that she’d taken the stairs at least two at a time to reach them, because she could see the mortification on the spymaster’s face when she realized that Cullen has already found them together.

“So sorry-“ she gasps, her voice ragged, but still refined with her accent. “Tried to distract – not in time.” She gestures between the three of them, obviously meaning that she’d tried to distract Cullen from the Inquisitor’s chambers, but it clearly hadn’t worked, and she hadn’t made it across Skyhold in time to stop him from finding them like this. “Lily, forgive me-“

“You _knew_?!” Cullen accuses, whirling around on Leliana with shock and anger written on his face. “All this time?”

“Of course, you idiot!” The redhead pants in response, finally able to straighten up. “They have been at this since the Blight!”

“The Blight?!” Cullen reasrs on them, and Lily was glad that Rory hasn’t moved an inch since the commander first walked in, his body rigid with embarrassment and anger. It meant that she couldn’t get up and throttle the man herself, naked as the day that she was born.

“You’ve made a cuckold of the king since the fucking Blight?”

“No, you idiot!” Leliana all but screams in her frustration. “The Inquisitor is _their_ lover!”

Which would have been all well and fine for Leliana to say amongst the four of them, but Cassandra and Varric came vaulting up the steps behind her, worry briefly on their faces.

“Oh, Maker above-“ Roland groans, as Lily fell back into the water of the bath to their respective shouts of delight.


End file.
